


minecraft

by ruruka



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-09
Updated: 2019-07-09
Packaged: 2020-06-25 14:05:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19747264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ruruka/pseuds/ruruka
Summary: naegi plays minecraft.





	minecraft

**Author's Note:**

> this was sort of a filled request but at the same time i ripped the prompt to shreds and had too much fun with it. but that's okay.

He shouldn’t. He shouldn’t. It’s a Wednesday, ten:thirty-one of the clock, and he shouldn’t. 

But if the sound is mute, and he’s just so cautious as to switch tabs at the first whisper of life round the corners, then it shouldn’t impact anything in enough harm to matter. Research can wait. Whatever the world has come to, that won’t change so drastically in the next half hour or two.

Green, it’s in his eyes and the screen that reflects back into them, an expanding world of lush humanity, quiet quiet quiet peace found nowhere but virtual reality anymore. Yes, that’s his job to fix, to work toward that in this very office building on these very shifts, but he’s already just concluded there that it isn’t an issue to neglect a little morsel of Future Foundation work to play Minecraft. Move along, go on. Escapism’s healthy enough. 

The office sits as close to silent as it so always does. Without his own sound, either, he still can imagine the clement hushes of grass beneath his traipsing gait, the idle plinks of harpchord music. How lovely. He roams around another square mile, panning toward the meticulous craft of wood up four walls of his house. In midday midweek, his server hosts just he and one or two other random online stragglers minding their own business across the riverbank. A flick of his sword opens the front door, though taken to closing it he’s facing opposite now, he pauses, watching, expression alighting within his real time slouch in his office chair. Behind the screen he begins a swift stride toward the pixels of gray across his front lawn; rapid clicks through the inventory menu draw a bone into one hand, offering it steadily for the wolf treading his yard’s border.

He struggles several minutes with the task, so deeply focused he worries he’s heard the business heels click up behind him a moment too late, but a blank web browser blinks back at his thumping heart all the same.

“Makoto,” shouldn’t _scare_ him, necessarily, yet regardless of the millions of moments he’s spent beside her, Kirigiri Kyouko makes an intimidating shadow of a division leader when her coffee mug is steaming directly over his shoulder. Hardly does she question in that monotone so much as she’s asserting a blunt statement. “Have you finished the report I asked you for.”

Overtop the mouse, a palm dampens, flexes. Naegi swallows. His smile, demanded, does not turn to face her. “Yep. Ah- well, almost. It’ll be done soon, I’ll send it to you.”

Behind him, Kirigiri sips her mug, and within the next stretch of seconds does he hear footsteps echo bold off. He relaxes. Pixelated grass becomes his realm again.

But triumph does not waltz sans tragedy, not in his life nor the one downloaded uncouthly to his work PC. The wolf has since vanished itself, and though he’s fortunate to not have had his skin mauled off, the silent explosion down the grass behind him forces all glory to balk. 

Watching the wreckage, the flames flicking up over debris, he could just about fall forehead to keyboard and sob right there. Rather he’s civil enough to draw back to a hand covering the taut purse of his mouth, browline curved atop wavering eyes. 

To top everything so cynically, he’s forced to calm his heart all over again to find a stark voice commanding him anew. “What in God’s name are you doing.”

It’s another one of those questionless questions, no inflection hidden underneath the thick blanket layer of exasperation as Togami gazes upon him, hand to a hip, eyes halfmast and scathing behind their lenses. The copy machine whirs ahead of him. 

A scramble to pull up an empty browser ends in Naegi’s attention instead flitting left, right, before landing directly to the other’s burning criticism. “I- ...S-Someone blew up my Minecraft house.”

Face unchanging, Togami swaps a palm to cup his cheek, sighing briskly beside it.

Naegi swivels himself back to face the carnage again, wincing. “It just sucks, you know? I worked really hard on that. Now I have to start all over...”

His mouth sits in a pouting twist. All the grief that overwhelms him does not know a home, however, in the coming seconds where he’s being knuckle swept out of the way and Togami’s crouching down before the computer screen to grip hold of every control. “Move. Who did it?”

“Huh-?” Blinking, he watches his avatar be led around, aimless a moment, until he’s able to squint toward the chat log in the lefthand corner. “Um…there’s only one other person in here right now. It must have been them- but- but it’s okay, Byakuya, you don’t have to-”

He cannot even catch up to his own breath before the grass and forestry flies by his eyes in bounds, leaps, rapidly ordering his character across the river divide and toward the first sign of life that grows nearer with every step. Mouse clicks shatter the office ambiance. Naegi flinches against a grip on the other’s sleeve, ache radiating up his spine as he watches Togami fire a merciless rain of arrows at his target. The other player’s avatar blinks red several flashing measures beneath the assault, and disappears from all sight. 

Togami straightens. A smug satisfaction on his face tells Naegi he’d be blowing the smoke from the pistol tip if he could. 

“Aw, man,” captures them both the same to glance several desk units over. Hagakure grips two fists aside his keyboard. “I just, like, hella died!”

Even if Naegi had the reaction time, he’s not the faintest idea what would come of it; without it, he’s left to again snap his focus for the next voice tempting them just a single pace off. “You shouldn’t be playing games during office hours, Togami.”

One arm rests across Kirigiri’s middle, the other holding mild to mug handle. When Togami’s attention finds her paper thin smirk, he’s thrown into a roll of the eyes, scoff deep of the mouth. Between them, the copy machine beeps. 

Someday, Division Fourteen will learn an ounce of dignity.


End file.
